


Dress to Impress

by refuse_to_sink



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Choking, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Facials, Future Fic, Hickies, M/M, PWP, Possessive Behavior, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refuse_to_sink/pseuds/refuse_to_sink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes home from his first day at work, Derek completely undresses him the minute he sees him. Well, almost completely. </p><p>Just PWP, tbh. As usual, no beta so mistakes are mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress to Impress

**Author's Note:**

> Been having one of those weeks where I haven't felt like working on anything (even my current fics, oops) so here have some porn.

                                                                                    

 

“Honey, I’m home,” Stiles calls out the minute he walks into the apartment, removing his keys from the door.

It’s not like Stiles even had to say anything, Derek could hear him walking down the hallway, rummaging around in his bag to find his keys, sliding the key into the lock – not to mention their apartment is _tiny_. You don’t need super hearing to hear much – that’s what you get for living in New York.

“In the kitchen,” Derek answers.

“I’m starved, where’s dinner?”

“You know where the oven-” Derek cuts himself off midsentence when he sees Stiles walk into the kitchen – his mouth gone suddenly dry despite the half-drunk icy cool water bottle in his hand.

Stiles is dressed in a pair of black men’s Oxford shoes and slim fitted black work trousers. He has a startlingly bright red jacket on – which is needed when fall rolls around in New York – a white button up shirt, a red tie, red satchel going across his body and to top it all off those ridiculous black square frames that just do _things,_ sexy things to Derek’s lower region.

“ _Dress for the job you want, not the job you have,”_ Melissa’s voice echoed in Stiles’ head earlier that morning, a spiel she’d given him and Scott a few years ago. Except Stiles doesn’t even have a job, not really, it’s an internship at one of the best newspapers in New York but he might as well dress the part – dress to impress.

If Derek had bothered to actually open his eyes this morning, hell even one eye while Stiles was getting ready then he would have seen Stiles’ outfit. Stiles had grumbled about idiotic werewolf, bartender boyfriends working late nights – and really, Derek a bartender? He’s the world’s most un-talkative and least likely to lend an ear bartender but he still managed to rake in the tips and that’s what helped pay for this ludicrously expensive, shoe-box of an apartment.

If Derek _had_ bothered to actually open his eyes this morning then Stiles most definitely would have not made it to his first day at his new internship on time – it’s a good thing Derek pulled the covers over his head to block out the morning sun and the sight of Stiles.

“What? I didn’t spill something on my new jacket did I?” Stiles freaks double-checking his jacket, his glasses slipping down his nose, “I haven’t even paid it off yet!”

Derek shakes his head, “that’s a lot of red.”

“It doesn’t clash does it? God the fact that, that even crosses my mind is bizarre. I was tempted to text Lydia a photo of my outfit last night but I’ve been down that road during prom and never again.”

Derek shakes his head again, “no it’s good,” and whoa Derek’s voice has gone a little husky his eyes raking up Stiles’ body.

Stiles’ honey-coloured eyes light up behind his glasses, a lopsided grin on his face as he brings his satchel over his head dropping it on the floor. “Is it now, Mr Big and Bad?”

“Really?” Derek snorts putting the water bottle down, crowding Stiles against the opposite counter, his hand starting to unzip Stiles out of his red jacket, “werewolf jokes?”

“Maybe I was talking about _that_ ,” Stiles emphasizes by running his hand across Derek’s soft cock through his patented black boxers (does he own any other colours), “being the big and bad.” It should be a crime that Derek was home all day on his lonesome wandering around in just those boxers, because that’s all Stiles is going to think about now, while he’s rereading and proof reading articles about men peeing in subways or some equally ridiculous story.  

“Good,” Derek shivers, his cock twitching as it starts to harden under Stiles’ touch, “because then that would make you Little Red.”

“Nothing little about me,” Stiles joke mocks.

Derek drapes the jacket onto the counter, taking Stiles’ hand in his own.

“Nothing little at all,” Derek nods and emphasizes his point by bringing Stiles’ long, slender index finger into his mouth. He slides the finger further into his mouth, up the webbing, dragging it back out so it’s nice and slick. “I love your fingers.”

Stiles groans in a quiet voice, “I bet you’d like it more if I was working it in that tight ass of yours.”

Stiles brings his hand around Derek’s waist, toying with the elastic of his boxers, sliding his hand down the back of Derek’s boxers running his hand along the crack of Derek’s ass.

Derek growls, his eyes flash as his hips giving an involuntary jerk towards Stiles as their clothed cocks brush against each other. He starts to unbutton Stiles’ shirt starting from the top. He crowds in closer, placing his lips, tongue, running his teeth along each new patch of exposed skin.

“You should leave the tie on,” Derek murmurs.  

“You think?” Stiles chuckles as he applies pressure to Derek’s hole just with his finger. He lets out a yelp when he feels Derek’s blunt teeth bite down on his exposed nipple. Derek worries the nipple between his teeth, before running the flat of his tongue over it.

“Yes.”

And who is Stiles to disagree anyway? Stiles reluctantly removes his hand from Derek’s boxers so that he can flip the collar of his shirt up, loosening his tie. He shucks out of his work shirt letting it fall near his abandoned bag on the floor. Derek fixes the tie, tightens it so it fits perfectly around Stiles’ neck, only fading hickies that were unseen from all the clothing and moles disrupt his otherwise pale neck.

Derek smirks as he smooth’s out the tie as if he’s rewrapping a present that’s just for him to unwrap at any time that he wants.

“Kinky,” Stiles mutters – not that he’s even one to complain considering all the things that have been _his_ idea in the past – as he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his pants in a hurry.

Derek’s momentarily confused because he’s supposed to be the one that’s supposed to be getting his hands and mouth on Stiles, but the next thing he knows Stiles is on his knees, running that sinful mouth over Derek’s clothed cock.

Stiles pulls the spit and pre come soaked boxers down so he can finally get to the main attraction, the thing he has _not_ been thinking about for the past 24 hours. Stiles refused to have sex last night, said he was too nervous about his first day as an intern. The only down side to that was all day at work all Stiles could think about, was “ _I really should have had Derek’s cock up my ass last night might have gotten rid of some of the pent up nerves and frustration.”_

Stiles nips at Derek’s thigh, nips at where his thigh meets his groin forming that ever sexy, ever distracting “v” that shows through when Derek’s boxers or basketball shorts are riding too low. Stiles knows Derek does it just to distract him, get him horny and on edge – whether he’s working out or just lazing around the house.

He nips and bites a few more times revelling in the way Derek groans, the way his leg spasms, as if Stiles could bring the hulking werewolf to his knees with just his mouth. Not that Derek would ever admit it out loud but Stiles could, Stiles could bring Derek to his knees with just more than his mouth. It used to scare Derek, thoughts filtering through his mind of Stiles leaving, getting bored, wanting to experience life – but over the years Stiles has reinforced and reiterated time after time that he was always going to bring Derek along for the ride. It took a while but Derek finally started believing in it, stopped second-guessing or listening that extra bit harder to see if Stiles’ heartbeat skipped a beat.

He grabs hold of Derek’s cock, giving it a few firm tugs before he starts to feed it into his mouth as far as he can go, not taking his time. Derek sucks in a breath, groans as one hand flies to Stiles’ longer hair, holding on while his other hand balances on the counter, his knuckles white like he’s holding on for dear life.

As if that weren’t enough Stiles’ free hand is back on Derek’s ass, toying with his hole not breaching but moving in circles, teasing. It sends a jolt through Derek, his hips involuntarily shoving forward sending more of his cock down Stiles’ throat. He can hear Stiles gag a little, spit running down the side of his mouth – and holy fuck is that ever a sight. Derek will never get sick of it.

Derek’s first instinct was to apologise to Stiles, but he doesn’t. He knows Stiles doesn’t want him to apologise, that was Stiles’ goal all along. The reason he always teases or finally fingers Derek as he sucks his cock. Stiles loves the way Derek’s hips thrust forward each time Stiles’ finger works its way inside Derek. He loves the way he chokes and gags on Derek’s dick. He can get face-fucked without Derek having to grip his head and slam his hips forward. Sure, they do it that way sometimes; Derek with a too firm grip on Stiles’ hair as he mutters dirty things as Stiles takes it. But sometimes Stiles enjoys being the one to instigate it.

His eyes catch on the tie that Stiles is wearing, can’t help but reach for it, give it a little tug. He hears Stiles choke a little more on his cock; Stiles’ eyes fly open to squint at Derek behind those black glasses but then his eyes light up and Derek does it again.

“For all the dog jokes you make,” Derek grunts, “and you’re the one on your knees, a tie around your neck like you’re the one on a leash.”

Stiles groans around Derek’s cock, sparking vibrations right to the core of Derek, his own personal vibrator.

“You keep dressing like that and I will have to keep you on a leash. Don’t want others going after what’s mine, do I?”

He lets go of the tie, running his finger to where it’s still tied around Stiles’ neck, pulls at it to loosen it. He slides his finger along the fading bruises, giving them a gentle push just to watch the way Stiles’ eyes flutter shut. Derek contemplates giving Stiles fresh hickies later tonight, something for Stiles to think about while he’s at work the following day.  

Derek doesn’t even need to tell Stiles when he’s close, the grip in his hair tightens, Derek’s abs quiver, his legs spasm even more and Stiles can just tell. He runs his tongue on the underside of Derek’s cock one last time, circling the head before he leaves just the tip in, stroking the rest of Derek’s length, waiting.

With one final probe of Stiles’ finger just breaching Derek’s ass up to the first joint does Derek bow his head down, eyes shut, groaning as he shoots his load into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles doesn’t miss a drop, licks his lips to get the come that’s threatening to drip out of his mouth, sucks the rest out of Derek’s cock like his life depends on it, his hand still stroking Derek – until Derek’s hand halts Stiles’ movements.

Stiles wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, ridding himself of all the spit as he stands smirking.

Derek rolls his eyes and hauls Stiles in for a kiss. It’s greedy, daunting and sloppy but neither of them are made of fine china, don’t always need tender, passionate kisses. Derek’s hand works on Stiles’ boxers, dragging them down before he finally breaks the kiss as Stiles steps out of his boxers – which unfortunately aren’t red.

Stiles is hard, achingly hard and despite his teenage years being well behind him they know it isn’t going to last long. Not that it matters, it’s still early in the evening – they have later on tonight to take it slow.

It’s Derek’s turn on his knees, as his tongue roams over Stiles’ cock, on the underside, over the head, along the side of his shaft, still a bit of a tease. Before he _finally_ takes Stiles’ cock into his mouth, sucking on it for all he’s worth, his cheeks hollowing out. He runs his hand down Stiles’ thigh as he continues to suck, getting Stiles’ cock sopping wet.

“Hey,” Stiles nudges warning Derek and normally Derek would swallow, drink up everything Stiles has to offer, but by the tone of Stiles’ voice he knows it’s not a warning. It’s his, ‘I have something else planned for you’ voice.

He reluctantly removes his mouth from Stiles’ cock, sitting back on his legs. He watches fascinated as Stiles takes his own cock into hand, starts to stroke himself fast and unwavering.

“Ready,” Stiles mumbles, biting his lip as Derek opens his mouth without having to be told.

Stiles strokes himself a few more times before he’s coming, some landing in Derek’s mouth, the rest landing on his face, in his beard, some dripping down onto his bare chest. He strokes himself until he’s gotten the last drop of come out of him.

Stiles brings his hand up to Derek’s face, runs his finger through Derek’s beard picking up some of the come and feeding it into Derek’s mouth. Derek doesn’t falter opening his mouth, sucking in Stiles’ finger and come.

“Don’t want people going after what’s mine, do I?” Stiles says, repeating what Derek said earlier.

Derek laughs, standing up as he leans into Stiles. Stiles kisses him, his tongue trying to get the rest of the come that’s going to dry on Derek’s beard – which will be a bitch to clean up.

“Hey, I hope you know this doesn’t constitute dinner,” Stiles informs Derek.

Derek huffs, his body shaking against Stiles with a quiet laugh.

Stiles should definitely dress to impress more often.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> That pic I found on pintrest, but is from the Burberry collection, just FYI.  
> tumblr: foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com


End file.
